You Can Always Come Home
by mywarisalreadywon
Summary: This is an AU since Mary isn't dead and there are no supernatural creatures. Dean was kidnapped when he was four instead of the demon coming to get Sam. Also, if enough people like this, I might do snapshots under this same story of things after this "chapter" is done.


**Okay, so this is AU (obviously) since Mary isn't dead and there are no supernatural creatures. Dean was kidnapped when he was four instead of the demon coming to get Sam. Just bear with me, this is gonna be a long one. Also, if enough people like this, I might do snapshots under this same story of things after this "chapter" is done.**

**It was finally starting to get warm here in the boondocks, but then it started snowing again. So I'm listening to bloopers and the Frozen soundtrack as I type this. Also my low self-esteem has hit an all-time low. **

**Raven is my creation; I might include her in other later stories if y'all like her. I'm having Sam and Raven be the same age because it's just easier for me to keep track of. Dean is 21 and Sam and Raven are both 17.**

**WARNINGS: MENTIONS OF SELF HARM. I'M NOT GOING INTO DETAIL, BUT THERE IS A PART WHERE SELF HARM AND THOUGHTS OF SUICIDE ARE MENTIONED. **

**I own nothing, and I'm not getting anything but enjoyment from this because the bank laughed at me as I walked by.**

**Anyway, enjoy!**

**Fresh from the desk of a twelfth grade nothing.**

* * *

It all started with a flat tire. John had quickly changed it and planned to stop at the next gas station to fill it with air since it was a little flat. They had only gotten about twenty or so more miles when the engine died. Just a few miles outside of Winchester, Maryland – and, damn, if that wasn't coincidental – John had reluctantly admitted defeat due to his exhaustion and lack of service equipment. He realized that that was a huge oversight and cursed himself for being unprepared. He had sacrificed his pride and called a tow truck to get his beloved '67 Chevy Impala to an auto-body garage. The driver was friendly enough and took good care of his car as he loaded it onto the back of his truck.

"I'll bring her on down to Gunslinger's Auto Shop. They're the best garage this side of the Mississippi. Wes'll treat this old girl right," he said.

"Gunslinger's? In _Winchester_?" John asked.

"Yeah, that was Raven's idea," he laughed. "And get this, the two of them, Raven Smith and Dean Wesson." He laughed again.

"Smith and Wesson," John said, faintly amused. "They went all out on this, huh?"

"Yeah, Raven runs the business aspects and occasionally works on the smaller problems in cars if they're really backed up; Wes is the head mechanic. He's the best. You give him a busted up car that no mechanic would give a second glance; he'll have it up and in working order in two weeks or less. He's a mechanical genius. They work as a team. They were in foster care together for years and just stuck with each other. They're the closest brother and sister that you'll ever find, even if they aren't blood. They ran away from their last foster home together."

"They ran away?" Mary asked.

"Yeah. It was a bad home, a lot of the ones they lived in were, and Wes was sixteen. He was getting abused and one day he snapped. He took Raven and ran. She was only twelve, but was more than willing to run away with the only person who had ever kept her safe since she entered the system. They traveled up and down the east coast to see where they wanted to settle and ended up here, and, when he turned eighteen, they turned this old warehouse into a garage. That was about two years ago that they opened it up, though; now that old building looks real nice and goes by the name of Gunslinger's," the man explained. "They went through a lot of homes though, and, like I said, most of them were pretty bad." He shook his head sadly. "You'll like 'em though. All the shit they've been through and they're still the nicest people I've ever met." He nodded to them as they climbed into the large cab of the truck.

"Just a couple of warnings…don't ask Wes too many questions, don't insult his music, and don't be rude to Raven. You do either of those last two, you're asking for trouble. The first, well, you won't get much out of him if you do that," the man said.

"Thanks for the heads up." John nodded.

"The worst choice you could ever make is trying to hurt Raven. Couple months ago, this guy comes in for a new tire. While Wes is putting it on in back, the guy tried to have his way with Raven. She yelled out, but couldn't fight him off because he caught her unawares. Wes heard and fought him off. I say 'fought him off', but 'beat the living hell out of him' is probably a better way to say it. I think the guy left here with a permanent limp."

"He's really protective of her then," John concluded.

"Nothing's gonna hurt his little sister if there's anything he can do to stop it."

Within minutes they pulled up to a building with a sign outside identifying it as Gunslinger's auto body shop. They got out and waited semi-close to the door while the man parked the Impala in the shop. A young woman with hair as black as night walked up to them. Her pitch black hair was pulled into a loose ponytail and reached down to about her lower back. Her glowing amethyst colored eyes surveyed each of them before she grinned, showing off a set of snow white teeth. She had long, slender arms and legs and looked to be athletic. She seemed to be the type of girl to turn heads and was clearly going to do so once she had gotten a little older. She was wearing a pair of jean shorts – short, but not ridiculously so like some girls – and a Led Zeppelin t-shirt.

"Can I help you folks?" She asked in a sweet voice. She was cautious, and stayed far enough away that she could run if they made a grab for her, but close enough that most people wouldn't notice anything unusual.

"Are you Raven?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, is that your car?" she asked, pointing to the Impala.

"Mhm." John nodded. "I'm John Winchester; this is my wife Mary, and my son Sam."

"Wow," she let out a low whistle. "First, you guys are certainly in the right town; second, Wes is gonna love working on this baby." She grinned.

"He better take good care of her," John warned, choosing to ignore the friendly jab at their last name.

"Oh, trust me, he will." She nodded. "Lemme just go get him." She disappeared through a door to their left. She reappeared a moment later with a tall young man. He had spiked up dirty-blond hair and piercing green eyes. He had a serious expression that made him seem older than he probably was. His semi pale skin highlighted the dusting of freckles on his nose and cheeks. His eyes swept over each of them coldly, making them feel as though they were under a microscope and he could see right through them. When he looked away without reacting, John supposed they passed his test. The driver waved goodbye to Raven, who waved back, and left. The man, who John assumed was Wes, went over to the Impala. He walked around it a couple of times, inspecting the outside of the car.

"What's he doing?" Sam asked. Raven smirked.

"Wes has this way with cars, but he has to get a feel for the car before he can work with it. The way he describes it is that cars are like people; you treat 'em right and they're happy to work; you don't treat 'em right and they won't want to work. He has to get a feeling for if this car likes to work or not."

"So…he thinks they have feelings?" Sam asked, not really understanding the logic of it.

"To him, they do have feelings. I've seen cars come back onto the road for him when no other mechanic could get then working," she said. "Cars come to life for him." She shrugged. Wes looked over to John with a question in his eyes.

"It just won't start up again," John said. Wes blinked and gave him a look that said _no shit, but what happened before that._

"I'm a mechanic, but I can't give her a full check up on the side of the road with only a small toolbox." Wes grimaced, but accepted the answer. He walked toward the engine from where he was standing at the back, running his fingers gently along the side of the car as he did so. He had a look of excitement in his eyes as he walked, kinda like a kid on Christmas. The small grin he wore made his whole face light up as he reached to turn on the radio that was sitting on a nearby bench. John almost laughed when Van Halen started pouring from the speakers.

"That's the music we shouldn't insult?" he asked Raven. "There's nothing to insult." She grinned at him.

"So, is that your natural eye color?" John asked.

"Yeah," She laughed. "Less than point one-one hundredth percent of the world's population has this eye color," she said.

They were silent for another moment, watching Wes lift the hood and begin his inspection.

"Wes doesn't talk," Raven said suddenly.

"He hasn't since he was four."

"I didn't –" John started.

"Everyone asks," she said, shaking her head. "He was at the top of his class; he got offers from Princeton, Harvard, Yale, Stanford, and Dartmouth, and turned them all down. He could be doing something big, he could be designing his own cars or designing someway to make cars better, living the high life, but he's not. He chose to be here, just like he chose to go to night school instead of high school after we ran away. He likes this life. It's quiet and he's happy with it." She said, so don't act like he's stupid or anything, because he's not."

"Honey, we never thought he was stupid," Mary said gently.

"Most people assume that when they see that he's working here. They think that he's just dumb or a drop out or whatever just because he's a mechanic," she said with a sad look in her eyes. "People also assume he's stupid just because he doesn't talk. He can talk, I know because I've heard him singing along when he plays his guitar and he thinks no one is listening, but he chooses not to talk."

"So it's a defense mechanism," John said.

"I'm pretty sure it's one of the only things that got him though the traumatic experience one might call his childhood," she said. Wes tapped his finger twice on the hood of the car.

"Excuse me," she said, walking over to him. Wes signed a few things with his hands and she responded verbally, albeit quietly. Eventually, she nodded and walked back towards them.

"Your fuel pump is busted," she said. "He thinks it'll take less than a day to replace it, but he doesn't have the right parts for this car. He could put something else in, it wouldn't fit perfectly, but it would hold up. But, since you'll be driving back to Kansas, which is quite a ways away, he doesn't really want to do that for fear of future problems before you get home. The other option is to wait a couple of days for the parts to come in. He can order them today and they'll be here in one to three days," She explained. "You're a mechanic, and it's your car, so it's your decision what you want to do."

"We can wait for the right part. No sense in putting something else in and risking having to stop at another shop before we get home," he said.

"That's exactly what Wes said you would say." She grinned.

"Now, there's a little motel about a block away. Tell them that I sent you and you'll get a room. Diner's another block to the east. Same story: tell them I sent you and you'll get some food." Wes walked up, wiping the grease off of his hands on an old rag. He made a couple of motions with his hands. John looked at raven questioningly.

"Free of charge," she clarified. On the radio, AC/DC's _Back in Black_ finished and Blue Oyster Cult's _This Ain't the Summer of Love _started.

"Okay…um, thanks," John said. Before he could say anything else, another voice called out.

"Hey! Raven!" Wes looked to the voice and glared. If looks could kill, the newcomer would have been incinerated.

"Nathan, get out of here," Raven spat. She was tensed up and her hands were balled into fists. She looked a little scared, but more pissed than anything else. Wes, however, was tensed, not from nerves like Raven, but in anticipation of a fight. His knuckles were turning white with the amount of pressure he was using to clench his fists. His jaw was set and his green eyes blazed with anger. He stepped forward and stopped Nathan before he got any closer.

"I just want to talk to her, Wes," Nathan said, glaring daggers at Wes.

"I don't want to talk. I never want to see you again. I thought I made that quite clear when you broke into my home and I called the cops," Raven snarled.

"Baby, please…just talk to me!"

"No!" she yelled. John placed a hand on her shoulder, letting her know that he would help get this guy out if he was needed. She cut a glace his way, her thanks shining in her violet eyes. Wes, his full attention on Nathan, jerked his head to the door, telling him to leave. Nathan glared and punched him in the jaw. Wes' head flew to the right from the impact, but he straightened himself up. When Nathan was faced with a tall, broad shouldered, angry older brother who had suddenly decide to get up in his face, he finally realized that he'd made a mistake. His eyes went wide and his jaw dropped as Wes' fist swung up and hit him under the jaw. Nathan was in the air almost comically for a few moments before he hit the ground and crumpled. Raven had out her phone and was calling someone while Wes stepped back turning to face them. Raven ended the call and ran towards him, throwing her arms around his neck. He returned action, wrapping her in a strong embrace. They let go and he looked at her, cupping her cheek in his hand. His eyes took her in and showed just how worried he was about her.

"I'm fine, Dean," she said, smiling slightly. "I promise." He nodded but stayed close. He looked at the Winchesters. He made eye contact with John and nodded his thanks, letting him know that he had seen him be ready to help keep Raven safe.

"How's the hand?" he asked. Wes shrugged.

"You getting into more trouble?" a voice called out. Three cops walked towards them. Two grabbed Nathan and dragged him out while the third stayed to talk with them. Raven hugged him.

"You okay, Ray?" he asked.

"Yeah I'm fine, thanks for coming so quick, Greg."

"Don't you worry about Nathan anymore. That restraining order finally went through and if he comes within a hundred feet of you, he gets jail time."

"I'm pretty sure Dean's got this covered." She grinned.

"So am I, but for all legal purposes…" He shrugged.

"Yeah, yeah."

"I should probably go, patrols don't run themselves," he said. "You take care, ya'hear?"

"You bet," she said. He waved goodbye and left.

"Ex-boyfriend." Raven shrugged.

"Figured it was something like that." Mary nodded. Wes turned back to his office to order the parts he needed.

"So what happened to your family?" Mary asked.

"Car crash when I was three. I don't really remember them because I was so young."

"What about Wes?"

"He was kidnapped, but we never found out who did it or who his family was," she said. "I think he gave up hope for ever finding them years ago."

"He was kidnapped?" John asked, memories of his eldest son's kidnapping drifting from the locked box in his mind.

"When he was four, and he hasn't spoken to anyone since," Raven said. She reached into her pocket and pulled a picture from her wallet.

"This was how they found him." John looked at the picture and his knees almost buckled. The picture was of a scared little blond haired boy with sparkling green eyes. More than just the physical look of him – minus the terrified expression – he matched the picture of the little boy in the picture in John's wallet. He quickly pulled out his picture and held it next to hers. Raven gasped when she saw the identical boys. In John's picture, the little boy was smiling; he was holding little baby Sam and sitting on his mother's lap.

"My son, Dean was kidnapped when he was four," John choked out.

"Oh my God," she murmured. "We have to tell Wes!" she said. Before any of the Winchesters could object, she had raced off to the office.

"Do you really think it's him?" Mary asked. Sam was quietly observing everything for now, hearing that his brother might be alive.

"I do." John nodded. A moment later, Raven came back out, dragging Wes with her.

"Show him!" she said excitedly. He sighed inwardly and looked at the young man with different, new, eyes. This young man was big and strong and smart and obviously had a big heart; he would be proud to call this man his son. He handed over the picture and watched as Wes took it in. there was a look of shock on his face as he recognized himself. John had expected a lot of different emotions that one could experience in this situation, but he hadn't expected anger.

Wes shoved the picture back into John's hands and made a few gestures with his hands. The last one he made didn't really have to be translated; Wes flipped him off. They looked at Raven, who also looked shocked at this point, as Dean walked out the back entrance and slammed the door behind him.

"What did he say?" Sam asked.

"H-he said – if you were his real parents… and you really loved him…you would have found him. He thinks you didn't look hard enough, and it's your fault he got hurt so much while he was growing up," she said, tears streaming down her face.

"We looked everywhere, we never gave up," Mary said.

"But you have to understand, he's in shock and he's been through hell. He just knows that he barely remembers his family and then you show up and look like this perfect family and then you claim to be his parents. He doesn't even know where he's from," she explained, wiping the tears from her eyes. "He had a concussion when they found him and he doesn't remember much from anything before."

"My baby," Mary moaned; Sam looked at both his parents, then at Raven.

"Can I talk to him?" Sam asked. His parents looked surprised. Raven looked at him like he was a genius.

"That's a great idea!" she said. She grabbed his hand and yanked him towards the back door. When they got outside, he was surprised, but not shocked to see that the back was a graveyard of broken cars and loose parts.

"He should be around here somewhere; he never goes far when he's upset," she told him. She looked around before pulling him forward again. They soon heard the sound of someone messing around with one of the cars in the lot. They turned a corner to see a pair of jean-clad legs sticking out from under an old, beat up F-150.

"Dean." She was being gentle, so as not to upset him further. There was no response, not that she expected one. She tapped Sam on his shoulder.

"Talk to him." She mouthed. He nodded.

"Hey, um, Wes?" he started. The man under the car stiffened. "Um, should I call you Wes or Dean?" Raven snickered beside him, but he said nothing. Wes pulled himself out from under the truck and threw a glare her way; she shrugged in response. He looked at Sam and made a motion with his hands.

"Dean," Raven told Sam.

"Look, I'm not gonna tell you that you have to do anything," Sam said. Dean made a couple of motions.

"Damn right," Raven translated.

"Just hear me out okay?" Sam asked. Dean gave him a short nod.

"My parents – _our_ parents – they looked so hard for you. They looked all over Kansas and came up with nothing. Dad called everyone he knew and gave out so many pictures of you and it killed both of them to know that we never found you. I grew up hearing all about how you heard a noise and ran into my room to protect me. The person who took you didn't take me because you yelled and Mom and Dad came running into my room. He only got to take you because, even at four years old, you put me ahead of yourself and tried to help me," Sam told him. Dean, who was trying to remain angry, was near tears hearing about something he only vaguely remembered.

"Police and investigators all told my parents that you were probably dead after the first forty-eight hours. They refused to believe it, and always told me that you were out there. Mom told me that even if you were dead, you'd be watching over me with the angels in heaven. I never even knew you, but the thought of having an older brother who wanted to protect me got me through a lot of things. The thought that I had an older brother who was right there with me, cheering me on, comforting me, taking care of me, keeping me safe, well, I don't know what I would have done without that thought. I had hope because I knew that you were right by my side, if only in spirit." Dean ducked his head at this point, trying to hide the tears. Raven walked up and put her hand on his shoulder; he didn't push her away.

"Please, Dean, give us a chance to make it up to you." Dean looked up at Sam with tears streaming down his face. He started signing and Sam and Raven waited until he had finished before Raven started to translate.

"Do you have any idea how much pain I've been through in my life? Do you know how alone I felt for eight years while I was being passed form foster home to foster home? Do you have any idea what they did to me?" she said.

"Each and every home found some way to break me. I was the dumb kid that got knocked down six times and stood up seven. In my life, there's always another punch, always someone waiting to knock you down again, so you'll have to excuse me if I don't exactly feel sorry for the trouble you've been through." Sam shook his head at his brother's words.

"I don't want you to feel sorry for me; I just want you to give me a chance," Sam said. "I want you to see if you can't help my family become whole again. This whole road trip thing was so that we could feel more like a family again. It's been a rough few years for us. When I was fourteen, my mom was upset because you would have been graduating high school. This year she's depressed because you would have been graduating from college. Dad constantly feels like a failure because he couldn't protect you. I used to cry myself to sleep when I was little because I missed the big brother I never even _knew_!" Sam said, tears sliding down his face now. Dean shook his head.

"Please! Help my family! Help me!" Sam begged. Dean closed his eyes and lowered his head.

"Dean," Raven said. "Look at me." He did. "You have a chance to have what we both know you've wanted for a long time. You have people who want you to come home and who love you even though they haven't seen you in seventeen years. Take this chance." He stood up and walked away. When he had almost gotten around the corner, he stopped and half turned back. He had turned his head halfway so that they could only see one side of his face. He kept his eyes on the ground as he spoke.

"I can't help you, and I'm not worth helping," he said softly. His voice was deep and definitely mid-western. He walked back into the garage, letting the door slam behind him.

"I think there's hope for him yet," Raven said happily.

"What?" Sam asked, confused by her optimism.

"He hasn't spoken to anyone since he was four, and he just spoke to you," she said. "He just met you, and you've got him talking after less than an hour." She grinned.

"So you think he'll come around?" Sam asked.

"I know he will. It might take a little time, but it'll happen." She pulled him back through the door. John and Mary were watching as Dean turned up the volume of the radio to an ear-bleeding level and ignored everyone as he set to work on changing the oil in an older Toyota Camry that someone had dropped off. Raven put her hand on Sam's shoulder and walked up with him to John and Mary.

"Go on over to that motel, I'll talk to him," she said. John looked ready to object, but Mary interrupted his protest.

"Okay, you have a number for us, right?"

"I do."

"Just call us when the Impala is ready," she said. The two women shared a knowing look, both understanding what Mary was asking of the younger woman.

"You got it." Raven nodded. Just as they were about to leave, Raven reached out and gave Sam a bear hug. He was surprised, but returned it quickly enough.

"Try not to worry; I'll do my best to get him home," she whispered into his ear. He nodded, not knowing what to say. They let go and she grinned.

"Nice to know I've got another brother," she said, and then she flounced over to where Dean was pretending to ignore them.

* * *

She waited until they left to talk to him.

"Dean," she said. "I swear to God. You have a chance to have a family, one that loves you and wants you to come home. If you don't take this chance, you'll always regret it," she warned him. "So you sure as hell better take this damn chance."

Dean didn't respond.

"Damn it!" she yelled. "Would you just freaking talk to me? I know you can, I've known for years. I just want to have an actual conversation for once. Please," she begged. Dean stayed still for a moment before turning to face her.

"What's to talk about?" he asked.

"Please give them a chance," she sighed, all anger leaving her voice.

"Raven –"

"You heard Sam. He wants his brother. He wants to know you."

"And what if I'm not their son?" he demanded. "What if I just look like him and share his name?"

"And you were both kidnapped when you were four?" Raven prodded, letting some of her anger come back to color her voice. "That's one hell of a coincidence."

"It's not proof."

"You're the one who said that Winchester was familiar to you and said that it meant something. That's why we came here," she argued. "Their last name is Winchester; _your_ last name is Winchester." He shook his head.

"I'm not going to argue about this anymore with you."

"You're being an ass," she said, crossing her arms. "Why are you doing this? You have a _chance_, Dean! So why won't you freaking take it?" She pushed.

"Because I don't want to get them back just to lose them again!" he snapped. His shoulders, previously tense and squared as if he was ready to fight, slumped. He placed his palms on the workbench he was standing near and leaned his full weight onto it. The fight drained from her as she realized what he was saying. He was scared of losing his family a second time and didn't want to be thrown away like a piece of trash – like what happened in a few of their foster homes – if he turned out to not be their son. She walked up to him and placed her hand on his back in between his shoulder blades.

"I have a feeling that they won't abandon you even if you turned out to not be their son," she told him.

Dean didn't know how to respond to that.

* * *

The next morning, John came to see how things were going. Raven was dozing on top of one of the cars with a country/rock radio station playing. John scuffed his feet on the ground to let he know he was there, only to find himself staring up into the muzzle of a silver Colt pistol with a pearl handle.

"Woah!" John held up his hands. She made eyes contact and relaxed.

"Sorry," she said, putting the gun in the back of the waistband of her black jeans.

"People come in early some mornings," she said. "Usually not the best of people."

"Where did you learn how to handle a gun?" John asked.

"Dean taught me. I don't know where he learned." She shrugged. "He taught me when I was fifteen."

"Keeps you prepared, huh?" John asked.

"We practice on this old clunker out back. Both of us have concealed weapons permits."

"Glad you didn't shoot me."

"Dean's the one who shoots first, asks questions later."

"Sounds like a lot of men I used to know."

"Mmm." She hummed. She jumped down from the car and walked over to him.

"The parts should be coming in today; Dean called in a favor."

"He wants us gone," John said, a little disappointed.

"You've gotta understand; he's never had anyone that gave a damn about him except me. He's scared that the novelty of having him back will go away and he'll become expendable again. And if it doesn't go away, he's scared that he'll lose you some other way." She told him. "He just needs some time to get used to the idea and adjust to the facts."

"Here's my cell, work, and home phone," he said, handing her a business card. "When he's ready –"

"I'll have him call." She nodded. He turned to go and started walking away. As he got to the door, he stopped and turned to look at her.

"You know, Mary's always wanted a daughter." He left her standing there slack-jawed and near tears with the implications of that sentence. She was still standing there in shock a few minutes later when Dean came in from the back lot.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Oh, did you give up your vow of silence?" She shot back at him.

"Just in front of you," he shrugged, "not anyone else. So what are you doing?"

"They want me too," she said, nearly whispering as she turned to face him.

"What?" Dean asked, confused as to what she was talking about.

"The Winchesters," she said. "They want both of us."

"Sure they do," Dean said sarcastic as ever.

"They do!" Raven yelled. She lunged at him, closing the few feet between them; she started hitting every inch of him that she could reach.

"They do!" she yelled. "They want us! They want us!" Her yells turned into sobs and her punches turned into grabbing his shirt and clinging to him for comfort.

"They want me too," she sobbed. "They want you, and they want me." He wrapped his arms around her and, when her knees buckled, he lowered her to the ground and sat there holding her. He rubbed her back and kissed her forehead.

"It's okay," he soothed. "It's okay." She leaned against his chest and let him comfort her.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, resting his cheek against her hair.

"For what?" she sniffled, ignoring the tears that were running down her cheeks and into the soft fabric of Dean's t-shirt. She breathed in his familiar scent – motor oil from the cars, Irish Spring from his morning shower, sweat from the heat, and earth from laying on the ground outside while working under a car – and let it calm her down.

"For…for not really giving them a chance," he sighed. "I just don't know if I can do that at this point." She nodded, understanding how hard it was for him to trust people and rebuking herself for thinking that he should just immediately love them.

"Can you at least try?" she asked.

"I…I'll try," he promised. She nodded, knowing that that was probably the best she was gonna get from him. He let go of her and moved to stand.

"I have those parts for the Impala. They came in while I was in back. Delivery guy heard me and came around," he said. "I should probably take care of her." Raven lifted and eyebrow.

"Her?"

"They're car. She's definitely a her." He nodded. Raven wiped away the last of her tears and grinned a little.

"Call me when you're done," she said, walking back to the office.

* * *

John walked into the garage and saw Dean finish putting a high gloss on the Impala.

"You know, that's the best she's looked in years."

Dean looked up at the voice. He nodded and one corner of his mouth twitched up.

"I guess we'll be getting out of your way then," John commented.

Dean stayed silent.

"We really did look everywhere for you," John said, "or, at least, we thought we did. We never stopped trying to find you."

"I know," Dean said softly. "I called some detectives in Kansas." John was surprised the young man was talking, but let him continue without interruption.

"I just need a little time," Dean said. "Sam said you'd have given anything to have me back, so can you give me that?" he turned his gaze onto John. John looked at the familiar face of his eldest son, all grown up now, but his son nonetheless.

"Take all the time you need." The words flew out of John's mouth of their own accord. He smiled sadly at his boy and turned to walk back to the motel to get Mary and Sam.

"Um…Dad?" Dean's voice called him back the few steps he'd taken towards the door. He turned and saw Dean looking hesitant and rubbing the back of his neck absentmindedly.

"Yes, son?" he saw Dean take a breath before he crossed the couple of feet of distance between them. Before John knew what was happening, Dean had wrapped his long arms around his father, pulling him into a tight hug. John was unprepared, but immediately hugged him back. He suddenly remembered when Dean was little and would jump up and hug him as soon as he came home from work; Dean's hugs were always tight and warm and he always put so much love into them that they made John smile on even the worst days. His son was also known for spontaneous hugs during the day, such as right after breakfast, lunch, or dinner, while John was wiping his hands after having adjusted something in the Impala, and after he or Mary sat down after a long day. This hug was no different from any of those, save for Dean being a lot bigger.

"We'll be waiting, whenever you're ready," John said, letting go. Dean nodded and tried his best to push the tears back into his eyes.

"Yeah, gotcha." Dean nodded. John tried his hardest to hide his smile as he walked away.

* * *

When he came back with Sam and Mary, Dean was gone. The garage was completely empty except for the Impala and a note, resting on the hood. Mary went over to the car and hesitantly picked it up to read it.

_Raven has your number. I'll try to call sometime._

_I'm sorry._

_I'm just…I'm not used to being a part of anything more than a pair and I need some time to adjust._

_I promised Raven I'd try though, and I never break a promise._

_-Dean_

The handwriting was blocky and clearly not Raven's – Mary had gotten a look at the sloppy but kind of elegant handwriting in the young girl's notebook before – so John trusted it to be from Dean and not Raven; though he still wouldn't have put it past her to have written something like this to push Dean in a certain direction.

"He said he would try," John reminded Mary. "He just needs a little time."

"So we should give it to him and hope he calls soon," Sam said. John nodded and got behind the wheel of the car. As he started the engine, he noted that it sounded better than it had in years. He shook his head ruefully, but he couldn't keep the proud smile off of his face.

* * *

They had been home for almost a month before Dean called. It went to the machine right as Mary walked in through the door. She immediately called him back, running to the phone and worrying that he wouldn't pick up the whole time.

"Hello?"

"Dean?"

"Umm…" his husky voice caught in his throat.

"I was just at the grocery store; I got home right after you hung up," she explained.

"I… I just… Raven made me call."

"I knew I liked her."

"I don't know what she wanted me to talk about."

"How's the garage?"Mary asked, trying to sound nonchalant even though she was wildly happy that Dean was talking to her. Raven had called a while ago saying that she was getting him to talk to people other than her because she was tired of his 'vow of silence'. She had also told Mary that she was going to tie a bell to his neck because he was so sneaky, but that was after he caught her talking to Mary on the phone and thought it was a guy because she was giggling so much.

"It's… busy," Dean said, "which is good because Raven gets bored easily."

"And how are you doing?" she asked. He was silent for a moment.

"I'm… confused," He admitted. "First, because I've never once felt the need to talk in _seventeen years_ and, all of a sudden, I've got a lot to say. Second, because I have a family that I don't even know anything about. Third, because everything I thought I knew about myself has come into question."

"Do you want to get to know us?" Mary asked, focusing on the one thing she could help him with.

"I don't know," he sighed, sounding lost. "I don't know what I want anymore. I thought I had everything figured out, but I was wrong. Now, I just… I don't know what I'm supposed to be doing." The two were silent after his confession.

"I should go. Raven will be getting home soon and I gotta get dinner going." She heard him sigh.

"You cook?" she asked.

"Kinda have to; Raven can't boil water." She could almost hear the smirk in his voice.

"So what's on the menu tonight?" she laughed.

"Tomato rice soup; that's what I make best," he said.

"Really?" She sounded shocked.

"Yeah, why?"

"Because I made that for you all the time when you were little, especially when you were sick." On the other end, Dean could practically hear the tears coming.

"I just… I didn't… I've just always known I liked it." He choked out.

"In any case, I'm glad you didn't inherit John's cooking skills," she said softly. In the background, she could hear a door opening and then closing again and a muffled greeting was called out.

"Hey, I'm gonna steal your baby cause I'm hungry and not in the mood for a microwave dinner and I want him to make me some food," a bouncy female voice informed her.

"Okay Raven," Mary said. Raven giggled a goodbye, probably at her brother's expense, and hung up. A minute later, John came in from mowing the lawn.

"What's wrong?" he asked, catching sight of the tears streaming down her face.

"Nothing, nothing's wrong," she said

"Then why –"

"Dean called," Mary grinned, "and he remembers my tomato rice soup."

"So he's doing okay?"

"He said that he's confused about everything right now, but I'm taking it as a good sign that he's calling us just to talk."

John smiled and nodded his agreement.

* * *

"Really?" he glared at the black-haired teenager.

"Mhm," she nodded, "now make me dinner."

"Raven."

"I got you something."

"Stop trying to change the subject."

"This has to do with the subject."

"Really."

"I've been saving up my money for a while," she told him. "I know you'll never make a move by yourself, so I'm helping you out."

"What did you do?" Dean asked, sounding exasperated. She simply grinned in response.

"Raven."

"Here." She thrust an envelope into his hands.

"What is this?" he asked, opening the envelope. Inside was a pair of plane tickets. They listed a flight for the next day, with the destination listed as Kansas.

"A flight to Kansas?" he asked. Raven didn't miss the way his voice hitched a little higher on the word _flight_, but she said nothing on that matter.

"Yeah!" she said. "We'll go see your family!"

"I – I don't know." She noticed his hands were shaking. "I don't even know them."

"So you can get to know them," she said gently. "We're going and that's that."

* * *

Dean didn't like flying. In fact, he hated it. Raven sat next to him and giggled as he clutched the armrest next to him like a drowning man clutched a raft.

"Would you relax, you big scaredy-cat." She smirked at him.

"Would you shut up?" he growled. His jaw was clenched and his knuckles were turning white. She laughed and put her hand on top of his. He relinquished the armrest and gripped her hand. She said nothing about his trembling and his clammy palm. She rested her head on his shoulder and hummed AC/DC, feeling him relax just the slightest bit. _Everyone's scared of something,_ she thought. _I just never thought he could be _this_ scared of something._

* * *

Mary had just sat down on the couch beside John when the doorbell rang. John had been relaxed, lounging on the couch while watching the football game, for the first time since Dean's call. Sam was sitting in his usual chair – what had started out as John's recliner but had been surrendered to Sam because of the position next to the lamp – doing some 'light' reading; he was reading a large book about nature vs. nurture. Mary sighed and went to answer the door. She opened it and gasped as she recognized the tall, muscular man with dirty blond hair and bright green eyes. He stood with his hands in the pockets of his worn leather jacket. He was also wearing dark blue jeans and a Metallica t-shirt.

"Dean!" she laughed. "What are you doing here?"

"I don't know." He shrugged. "Raven kinda threatened to drag me kicking and screaming out here if she had to."

"Remind me to thank her, then." Dean smiled at her comment. She reached out and took one of his large, calloused hands in both of her small, soft hands.

"Come on in, honey," she said. She could see that he was nervous, especially without the feisty young woman who had forced him to come, and he was hesitant to go into the strange house. He did come inside though. Sam looked up when she brought him into the living room, but he forced himself to stay seated; he knew that it would startle Dean and do more harm than good. He gave Dean a nod and a smile and received a small grateful smile in return. John, however, jumped up immediately.

"Dean!" John exclaimed. Dean started a bit, but recovered quickly, giving John a nod. Sam glanced at Dean and, noticing that he was quickly becoming overwhelmed, caught Dean's eye and gave him a look that said _trust me_. Sam dog-eared the page that he was on and closed the book before standing up.

"Are you hungry or thirsty, Dean?" he asked, jerking his head to the kitchen.

"Uh, yeah. Thirsty," Dean managed to say, following Sam as he went to the kitchen. Sam closed the door behind him, separating them from their parents.

"Thanks," Dean breathed, visibly relaxing.

"No problem." Sam laughed at his expression. He noticed that dean was still really on edge.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Not really." Dean shrugged.

"So what's up?"

"I hate flying," Dean said, closing his eyes and shaking his head. Sam saw a shiver work its way through his tensed body and winced in sympathy. He reached around to the counter behind him and grabbed the bottle of aspirin behind him and a bottle of water out of the fridge. He took two pills from the bottle and handed them to Dean with the bottle of water. Dean gave him a look that expressed more thanks than words ever could before he downed the aspirin.

"So," Dean drawled, "How does this thing work?"

"What, being a family?" Sam asked.

"Yeah." Dean nodded. "I don't exactly have any experience with this."

"Well, I don't know," Sam admitted. "I'd settle for just getting to know you."

"What's to know? I own a car shop, never had much of a family, I have a sister, I don't have a girlfriend, and I'm thinking about getting a dog." Dean shrugged.

"I already know most of that about you," Sam said, rolling his eyes.

"Then tell me about you," Dean snarked.

"Why don't we take turns?" Sam suggested. "You tell me something about you, and I'll tell you something about me."

"Might as well."

"You first."

"What? Why?"

"Because you're older."

"Screw you," Dean groaned. Sam just laughed.

"Okay, my favorite color is black."

"I've never had a dog, but I've always wanted one."

"I got bit by a Rottweiler when I was six," Dean said, showing Sam the scar on his collarbone.

"And you want a dog now?"

"Forgive and forget, dude." Dean shrugged.

"I got bit by a kid in fourth grade, and you don't see me forgiving him." Sam smirked. "Actually, I think he's in a special institution now."

"Seriously?" Dean laughed. It was a loud and clear sound. "Wow Sammy, what'd you do to him to get him to bite you?"

"Nothing!" Sam protested. "He just jumped up and attacked me!"

"Dean had to hold onto the counter to keep himself from falling out of his seat at the mental image of a little Sam and a boy jumping on top of Sam. On the other side of the kitchen door, John and Mary couldn't keep the smiles off of their faces at the sound of both of their boys laughing together.

* * *

An hour or so later, Dean was leaning on the counter directly across from where Sam had laid his head down in embarrassment.

"Really?" Dean grinned. "You fell for that? That's the oldest trick in the book!" Sam groaned.

"I knew I should never have mentioned it."

"Come on, Sammy." When Sam looked up a moment later, Dean had mirrored him and was watching Sam with bright green eyes that were filled with laughter.

"You know," Dean started, "it's been a long time since I felt this good. Raven tries to cheer me up, but there's always a part of me that says it's not gonna last." Sam opened his mouth to say something, but his big brother kept going. "Now, I dunno, I feel like I found something." Sam smiled.

"You have found something," Sam said. "You found a home."

"I guess I did." Dean smiled. Without warning, Dean shot out of his seat and grinned at Sam.

"Let's get out of here!" he said. "Let's go _do _something."

"Like what?"

"I dunno, chase skirts, go to a bar, deface public property, _something_." Dean shook his head. "I'm going crazy here, man!"

"Dean, I'm seventeen. I can't drink."

"Live a little, Sam!" Dean chuckled. "Would I let anything bad happen to you? Don't you trust me?"

"Well, yeah…but –"

"So come on!" Dean said, yanking him out of his chair.

"I dunno, Dean."

"Worst comes to worst, we'll call Raven to bail us out of jail."

"What about Mom and Dad?"

"I won't let you get smashed; I do know how to be responsible."

"Says the guy trying to take a teenager to a bar."

"Says the guy who's been going to bars since he was seventeen," Dean amended.

"Wow," Sam said sarcastically.

"That's life."

"What, are we quoting Sinatra now?"

"No, we're going to have some fun now." Dean grabbed Sam's arm and dragged him out to the back door.

"So we're just gonna leave without telling anyone."

"Nope; left 'em a note." Dean smirked at Sam. They slipped out the back door and around the house to the car Dean had rented and drove into the city.

* * *

Sam didn't really know how much later it was when they got home. He didn't think he was drunk, but he was pleasantly warmed by alcohol. Dean, true to his word, hadn't let Sam drink any more than a few beers. Dean himself had only had a couple because he was driving. After the bar, they had walked down the street. They hadn't gone anywhere; they had just walked and talked. They might have only met a month or so ago, but Sam felt closer to the young man beside him than he did to people he had known his whole life.

"So," Sam started, "What are you gonna do?" They were sitting in the driveway, just sitting.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, are you gonna stay here, or are you gonna go back to Maryland?" Sam asked.

"I…I dunno," Dean answered.

"I understand, you know, if you wanna go back. No one's gonna stop you."

"It's not like I have much of a home there anyway." Dean shrugged. "Raven hates most of the kids at school, I can just as easily work with John at his garage, I could probably sell my garage for a pretty decent price." He shrugged again. "I might even be able to find an apartment around here."

"You really want to stay?"

"Yeah, I mean, you guys are here, it couldn't hurt for raven to have an actual home and friends at school, and, contrary to what people might think, I'm not anti-social; I just don't trust easily." Dean smiled at him.

"Are you gonna tell Mom and Dad that?"

"Maybe," Dean smirked again, "Maybe I'll just surprise them."

"Dude…" Dean waited for the kid to continue, but he didn't. They sat in silence for a few more minutes before Dean threw the car door open and got out. Dean came around the car and dragged Sam out too. Sam said nothing as Dean led him to the backyard. He watched as Dean flopped down on the grass, spread-eagle style. Dean balled his jacket up and shoved it under his head and closed his eyes and just laid there. His jeans rode low on his hips and his shirt was riding up from the way he had laid down, exposing the top of his hips and his stomach. Sam could see the faint scars on Dean's pale skin; scars made paler with age, but still there. Looking to Dean's arms, Sam could see faint scars there too. These ones were thin, horizontal lines. Sam sat down beside Dean and placed his hand on Dean's forearm, feeling the lines under his fingers. He felt Dean stiffen as Sam ran his fingers along them.

"Dean…" Sam said slowly.

"Don't, Sammy," Dean whispered. "Please."

"Can you tell me why?"

"I needed an outlet; nothing in my life was in my control. I used a knife to control _something_."

"But you aren't doing it anymore, right?"

"I haven't cut in three years." Sam's fingers had continued to run over the marks during Dean's whispered confession.

"Okay." Sam lay down beside Dean so that the top of Sam's head was by Dean's right shoulder and the top of Dean's head was right by Sam's right shoulder.

"You ever look at the stars, Sammy?" Dean asked. He had a faraway sound to his voice, like he was only halfway there with Sam.

"Nah, not really," Sam replied. "You?"

"All the time." Sam looked at Dean and then looked up at the sky again.

"My childhood was pretty shitty, but the stars were always constant. No matter where I was, they were always there. Raven said that she could never accuse me of having my head in the clouds because I was always more interested in the stars." Dean chuckled to himself. "You know, even when I wanted to end it all, the stars were a comfort. I dunno, they just made me feel like maybe everything isn't hopeless."

"I'm sorry your life sucked."

"Don't worry about it. It's the past and it can't be changed. It doesn't do any good to feel bad about it," Dean said.

"I'm sorry you wanted to die," Sam said, ignoring Dean's comment. "I'm glad you're still here." He felt Dean tense up again.

"How did you –"

"You said you wanted to end it all." Sam shrugged. Dean sighed. Sam shivered and dean somehow got his leather jack out from under his head and around Sam's shoulders. Without thinking much of it, Sam turned and nuzzled into his long-lost brother's neck, breathing in Dean's scent. Before he drifted off, Sam had images of cars, leather jackets, and just a little bit of alcohol drifting through his head.

* * *

Dean didn't move when Sam pushed his face up against Dean's neck and jaw. He didn't move when Sam fell asleep. He certainly didn't move when Sam gave a little sigh of contentment. As if reading his mind, Mary opened the back door as he wondered to himself how he was going to get Sam inside. She held open the door as Dean maneuvered Sam in via fireman's carry. She said nothing as she directed him to Sam's room to drop the kid off. She didn't even say anything as he leaned on the counter in the kitchen clutching a cup of coffee. It was John who eventually broke the silence.

"You boys okay?"

"Yeah," Dean said, nodding, "we're fine."

"Not to play the overbearing parent, but, where did you go?" John questioned.

"Play overbearing parent all you want, I've never had one," Dean chuckled. "He just showed me around town. It's probably a good time for me to get acquainted with it." Mary drew in a breath.

"Does that mean…" she trailed off.

"You want to stay?" John asked. Both could hardly believe it.

"I can't stay immediately," he said. "I gotta sell Gunslingers, get Raven's stuff and mine out of the apartment, you know, wrap things up. I do plan on staying here though." He looked at her, their emerald eyes meeting. "This is the first place where I've actually felt like I belong. It feels like home." She smiled and walked around the counter to hug him. She wrapped her arms around her eldest child and felt him breathe a little easier. His big arms wrapped around her, holding her close. It was like he was scared to let go, like he might lose her again if he did so.

"Raven must be worried sick about you, though." Mary pulled back, resting her palm on his cheek.

"Why don't you go on home to her and then both of you can come over tomorrow at eight for breakfast," she suggested.

"Sounds like a plan to me," John put in.

"I love it when a plan comes together." Dean grinned. John laughed at the reference.

"Now _there's_ a kid after my own heart." Dean smiled and said goodbye, closing the door gently behind him.

* * *

When he got back to the hotel room, the first thing he noticed was the mess. It seemed like Raven had spread her stuff over the entire room. It was quite a feat since she hadn't brought that much stuff with her. He chuckled softly to himself as he saw her sprawled out on one of the beds. He laid his jacket across the back of a chair and kicked his boots of. He walked a few steps forward before he collapsed onto the other bed. He set the alarm for seven because he knew Raven would want to take her time getting ready. He nestled under the covers and let his exhaustion pull his eyes closed. Before he dropped off, however, he smiled to himself. He had finally found his home.

* * *

Raven didn't disappoint him. They were almost late because she took her – painstaking, agonizingly slow – time getting ready. She even giggled at Dean's exasperated expression. He practically had to shove her out the door to get her to go.

"Oh, calm down," she grinned, "we have plenty of time."

"I'm going to smack you."

"That's my line."

"Screw you."

"That's also my line."

"Keep talking," Dean growled. She giggled and turned on the radio, her violet eyes flashing in the early morning sunlight. When they got to the Winchesters house, she was out of the car and up the steps before he'd even turned the car off. He shook his head as he walked up to the door more slowly. Sam was grinning and leaning against the doorframe.

"It should be a crime to deal with a teenage girl before noon," Dean groused. Sam snorted and rolled his eyes.

"Hangover?" Dean asked quietly.

"Just a pounding headache, not that I drank enough to cause a full on hangover," Sam told him, equally quiet.

"Good." Dean nodded and gave a half smile as they walked inside. They walked into the kitchen to find raven sitting with Mary at the table, eating pancakes.

"Dude, your mom's pancakes are even better than yours," Raven commented.

"They smell good," Dean said. Mary picked up some plates from the counter and Sam grabbed coffee mugs and the pot of coffee. They sat and talked and ate. John joined them after a few minutes. He'd been in the garage giving the Impala a tune up. Breakfast was a quiet affair with Sam and Raven trading high school drama stories and John and Dean trading mechanic secrets. Mary commented here and there, but was perfectly content to watch her newly expanded family. Dean helped her with the dishes while Sam, John, and Raven went to play basketball outside – Raven had claimed that she could beat both of them one-on-two. Dean dried the dishes after she washed them. When they were done, she reached over and took his hand. He looked at her, surprised.

"Honey, I'm so proud of you," she said. "I'm so proud of the man you've become, even after going through so much. I couldn't be more proud if I'd raised you myself."

"Um…thanks, Mar – Mom." Dean's eyes met hers and shined as he smiled at her. On the inside, Mary was bursting with joy at having Dean call her mom.

"Come on, we should go make sure your father doesn't hurt himself." Dean chuckled and held the door open for her as they went outside.

* * *

By the time the next school year started, Dean and Raven had sold the garage and moved to Lawrence, Kansas. They moved into an apartment not far from the Winchester's house. Dean started working at John's garage and had befriended the men that worked there. Both Dean and Raven came over for dinner at the Winchester's every night. Raven and Sam walked to school together every morning, meeting up outside of the apartment building.

Life moved on.

Sam graduated as valedictorian.

Raven was salutatorian.

Both of them were accepted to Stanford, so, naturally, Dean offered to go with them. He refused to admit _why_ he was going, but everyone knew he was going to keep his family safe. They moved into an apartment on campus and Dean got three jobs to pay for it, with Raven and Sam each getting a job too, after their schedules had been established.

Dean knew about how Sam felt about Jess before Sam even realized what he was feeling.

After taking a wrong turn on the way home to Kansas – he was running low on sleep – Dean found himself staying the night in a roadhouse in Nebraska. Two weeks later, he 'accidentally' made the same mistake. After Dean got back to California, Sam stole his cell phone when he was sleeping and sent Mary the picture of the young woman bussing tables. The young blonde was laughing and holding a beer of her own. Sam didn't send the other picture he found. That picture showed the same blonde sleeping in a bed with the sun rising behind her. The only way this picture could have been taken, was by someone lying beside her. A week later, Dean admitted that he was seeing a girl in Nebraska. He said that she was two years younger than him. A year after that, he proposed. Raven helped him to pick out the ring.

Six months later, she helped Sam pick out a ring for Jess. Dean and Jo Harvelle were married in November and moved into a separate apartment in Palo Alto so that they could have their space and Dean could keep his jobs. Eventually, they moved to Nebraska and took on the roadhouse from Jo's parents. They had three kids; all three were girls, and all three had Dean wrapped tightly around their fingers.

Sam and Jess were married in August, almost a year after Dean and Jo's wedding. They stayed in California and Sam graduated with his law degree. He joined a prominent law firm soon after, quickly becoming a rising star there. He and Jess had a boy and a girl.

Raven kept an eye on both of her brothers and drifted around the country for a few years. She met a young man named Castiel. He had struck out on his own to get away from his overly religious parents because he didn't know if he necessarily believed everything they preached anymore. The two fell into a mutual friendship and she taught him the tricks of the world. They got married in Vegas before actually having a ceremony in Kansas (Mary threatened to never speak to her again if she didn't let her fuss over her daughter on her wedding day). Cas' brother Gabriel joined them and became a welcome addition to the ever growing family.

Their lives weren't perfect, but they were certainly happy. While Jess and Sam's fights would usually end with Sam sleeping on the couch and making it up the next morning, Dean and Jo's fights ended with one or the other storming out and not coming back until a few days later. Dean and Jo's fights were bad, but, when they made up, it kept them at peace for a long time. Dean always said that he loved her backbone the most because the only way to get through to him was by standing up to him. They loved each other though, so a few fights was a small price to pay.

When Dean's daughters became teenagers and got moody and rebellious, Dean didn't yell at them or tell them how to act. He didn't tell them what they could or could not wear (for the most part) and he didn't tell them that they had to turn down their music and stop overreacting. He didn't try to control them like so many other parents did. He simply reminded them that their actions have consequences and they had better be able to deal with said consequences. Sam followed his brother's lead on this front with his own kids. Dean, however added a little phrase at the end of the statement. He would look his little girl (whichever one it happened to be at the time) in the eye and tell her nine extra words.

"No matter what happens, you can always come home"

* * *

**Fin**

**Again, if y'all like Raven, I'll include her in other stories. I really like these AU things so I might write some more. Also, my school's literary and art magazine might publish some of my stuff soon. If anyone wants to read any of what I submitted or wants to know how that goes, tell me and I'll PM you when I find out. **

**-Aidith**


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